


Life Drawing

by writtenthroughtime



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Life and Figure Drawing Classes, Modern AU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:11:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: Prompt: This would totally be an AU fic but I would love to see Claire teaching a figure drawing class and Jamie being one of the students draws her.





	

“We have to what?” The entire class exclaimed in disbelief. The professor smirked and relaxed against the lab table.

“All of you heard me just fine. I expect to see the results from this class and Professor Montgomery is already expecting you starting tomorrow night. Don’t worry about supplies, Professor Montgomery says that he’ll have things ready for you each class, just remember to sign in on both of our rosters. This class starts at 8pm sharp tonight! I don’t want to hear about any of you being late!” Doctor Randall looked down at her wrist and waved her hand towards the door dismissing us.

I packed my bag with my head still reeling from what Doctor Randall required, Life Drawing, a class designed to embarrass all of the parties involved. Naked men and woman lounging for hours at a time while a gaggle of students attempted to draw their forms from various angles.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!” I whisper yelled to myself as she made her way across the empty campus. “I can’t take a life drawing class I just… can’t! I can’t draw to save my life! Besides how does life drawing even fit with an anatomy class? I should be learning how to—”

“Talking to yourself again, Claire?”

“Agh!” I swung around nearly hitting my former roommate with her bag.

“Jenny!” I exclaimed clutching a hand to her heart, “you know not to sneak up on me like that!”

Jenny laughed and settled her hands on her hips, “Och aye but that’s the best time to sneak up on ye! What were you ranting to yourself about this time? Did fuddy-duddy Professor Whitman assign another frog dissection?”

Jenny’s strong Scottish accent lilting with each word and I smiled at the familiarity of if. “No, not Whitman…this time.”

I laughed and Jenny snorted, linking her arm with mine as we made our way to the library.

“So if it wasn’t Whitman who and what did they do to deserve the horrible Beauchamp rant?”

“Doctor Randall. Not the history professor, his wife the biology professor,” I amended quickly. “Doctor Annie Randall, who isn’t even a doctor by the way! She dropped out of her residency and decided to teach Bio 425 and she’s forcing us to go to Life Drawing instead of our lab class for the next two months!”

Jenny’s eyes went wide, not only in shock but in the way I knew she was plotting something. “So ye have to take the life drawing classes this quarter?”

“Ugh! Yes. I really don’t see the point in this class. I’m in biology not art!”

“Quitcher whinging Claire and just go to the damn class. Ye never know what ye might find or should I say **_who_**.”

\--------

 

The art room was small, cold, poorly lit and reeked of chemical adhesives. Was this really happening? I kept asking myself. Was I really taking a life drawing class? I groaned thinking of how my time would be better spent studying or in the lab examining specimens, rather in this dank room foolishly facing a class I felt was beneath me. Why art? Why did she have to send us to an art class, what good would this do or bring to us? Artist are careless junkies that will get nowhere in life. This chosen path won’t pay their bills or get them the type of scholarships needed to further pursue a career. I couldn’t fathom their reasons for joining a group that might lead them to ruin.

“Class! Come to order now, please!” The hippie who I assumed was Professor Montgomery said with a clap of his hands.

“Please cease your conversations and begin to find your way to an easel, then position yourself so that you may see the stage unobstructed.”

The so called ‘stage’ was compiled of ratty boxes haphazardly draped with tattered striped cloths and a wicker chair that look as though the weight of a butterfly would cause the fibers to crumble.

“On the easel in front of you, you shall find a fresh pad of newsprint. You have five minutes in a medium of your choice to do a nice warm up sketch of the popcorn kernel I am passing out now.”

“What?” I mumbled to myself as everyone around me pulled out pens, charcoal, pencils and pastels, even my fellow biology classmates had found a tin of pencils and were passing them around to one another.

“Ready?” Professor Montgomery paused, looking around. He pulled a stick from behind his ear and handed it to me. “You may begin!”

With the oddly shaped pencil I paused with it’s point on the paper, not sure how to start. The lumpy, misshapen mass in my hand did not resemble popcorn in the least. The people around me were making wild gestures with their arms, beautiful curves appearing on the easels I could see. Taking a steadying breath I mimicked their motions and had the faintest of curves when the timer went off and we were told to stop.

“Perfect! Now that we’re all warmed up I would like to introduce our first two weeks model.” He swept his hands towards a side door that cracked open slightly. “This is our model’s first time sitting for a life drawing class so please, everyone give the warmest of welcomes to Mr. Alexander Malcolm!”

The model appeared from behind the door clad in a fluffy blue robe. His steps were sluggish and hesitant, I got the feeling he didn’t want to be there as much as I did. He slowly made his way towards the stage, but not climbing into position.

“Mr. Malcolm, if you please.” Professor Montgomery said gesturing towards the boxes.

Mr. Malcolm stared at the professor. From the reactions I could see of my classmates and the professor, the model was challenging him.

“Mind if I work up to disrobing?” A deep and thick Scots accent drifted my way.

“Fine!” Came the angry reply from Professor Montgomery. “But this is for tonight only! I have you for only four sittings and tonight is a shortened class due to first day bullshit! Tomorrow I expect you to be prepared from the moment the class arrives.”

Mr. Malcolm nodded tersely. He kept his head down as he approached the stage and settled himself on the wicker chair, which creaked with his weight.

“Mr. Malcolm will sit in this position for ten minutes, before adjusting to a different pose in a different direction.There will be five different poses, each lasting ten minutes tonight. Typically we do twelve fifteen minutes poses, but tonight we shall adjust! Please capture as much as possible given the circumstances. I want your drawings labeled per pose, with your name on it, and date at the end of the class. Other students use these pads so please try not to be heavy handed. You may begin!”

From my angle all I could see was the bulky collar, the top of his shoulder blades and his shoulder-length curly red hair. I tried to capture the way his shoulders fit the robe and disappeared behind the wicker chair. However, when I looked at the drawing the paper reflected back a mass of scribbles that no matter what way you looked at it, you could not tell what it was meant to be.

I huffed out a breath and tried again, this time focusing on his hair. Again the spirals on the page no more reflected the coils of Mr. Malcolm’s hair than it did the curve of his shoulder. Our time started to dwindle down on this first pose, Professor Montgomery began to adjust a small space heater to point towards the stage. I noticed the model’s shoulders tense and his arm begin to shake.

“Stop! Readjust!”

Mr. Malcolm stood and took a deep breath before untying the front of his robe. The fabric swung to his sides. He turned and began to sit on a block directly in front of me, I finally caught a glimpse of the man I was supposed to study. His muscles were well defined, smattered with freckles and curls of fair blonde and red hairs. They made a trail that lead to a patch of even thicker curls that surrounded, while flaccid, still a very impressive penis. My clinical mind took over, examining his every muscle and curve. The way the skin was stretch taught in areas, and bulged in others. I wondered what activities he must do to maintain the way he looked. Even sitting there wasn’t a roll or wrinkle of fat. His body was the perfect biology project.

“Stop! Readjust!”

I jolted from the sudden exclamation. Looking at my easel, I realized I hadn’t sketched a single line. I had to shake myself out of this. _He was just a man. A very well defined, attractive man, but still just a man. Think of him as a patient and this is how you’re to figure out what’s wrong with him! Get your head on the assignment, Beauchamp!_

Three more positions followed and with each one Mr. Malcolm slowly became more and more unclothed until finally the robe was laying across the floor out of his reach. My temper rose with each minute. This man was most likely being paid for this, but still he was being put on display in front of complete strangers who are meant to analyze his every feature. I could not understand why he was putting himself through this torture, he was clearly not comfortable no matter how long the class went on and I couldn’t blame him. Not only was he being exploited but the amount of females in the class started to overwhelm even me. These girls shouldn’t be allowed to look at him this way! He wasn’t theirs to oogle and treat like a piece of meat! _He’s not yours either_ , a small voice reminded me. Yet, he felt like he was mine. I felt the need to cover him up and hide his body from sight, to protect him and comfort him….

My internal rant lead to the rapid end of class. I didn’t even hear the final instructions nor did I care I only had two of the required five drawings. I signed, dated, and numbered them before tearing the sheet off of the pad and handing it in. Mr. Malcolm had already disappeared from sight. Slowly I returned my supplies and stared at the door he had appeared from at the start of class. Tomorrow then, I thought and hitched my bag over my shoulder just as the side door squeaked open. The lights were dimmed even further than before and I could just catch the glint of his red hair as he darted out of the classroom.

“There’s the nudest!” A bellowing, familiar, laugh sounded.

“Shut it Ian, or I’ll make ye!”

“Och, come off it Jamie! Ye ken I’m just pullin yer leg! How was it? Did your cock come out to play and make the lassies faint with desire?” The sarcastic tone was cut off by a loud thump. I slipped through the door in time to see none other than Ian Murray rubbing his jaw from where Mr. Malcolm, or Jamie, had hit him. Ian merely laughed more.

“Are ye tellin me there wasn’t a single thing good to come from that class?” Ian’s tone was similar to that of his fiancee’s, sneaky and up to something.

“Nay!” Jamie roared as they made their way to the elevators. “I canna believe ye and my sister dared me and not only dared, but forced me to do this after losing a bet! There isn’t enough money in the world to make me want to come back tomorrow night! It’s definitely not worth the sixty pounds they’re paying me!”

Ian had his arm around Jamie’s shoulder as the two of them entered the elevator. As Jamie/Mr. Malcolm turned around we made eye contact, maybe the first of the night, but his eyes went wide. He was saying something to Ian but I couldn’t hear nor make it out as the doors shut and I was left alone on the abandoned art floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you all think this should be continued! Thanks - WTT


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